Pas de Deux
by Victoria Squalor
Summary: He'd lost everything: his dignity, his shot at vengeance, and his heart. And now, on Christmas Eve, she was determined to make him feel again. (Post 2x08 AU; smutfic. Complete)
1. entrée

**A/N:** So basically what happened here was a nice little holiday drabble got waaaayyyy out of hand. Hook does the humiliation conga here because his suffering amuses me, but it's Christmas Eve and miracles happen yada yada, especially when you get Tchaikovsky involved. Follows 2x08 continuity as well as 2x09 promos, but other than that, AU. This is part one of three; rating will be upped to M in the latter chapters.  
**disclaimer:** I don't own OUAT because if I did you'd be watching an entirely different show. And it would probably have to be aired on pay cable because of all the Colin nude scenes.

* * *

**Pas De Deux**

by Victoria Squalor

* * *

_A dance for two performers. A characteristic part of classical ballet, it includes an adagio, or slow dance, by the ballerina and her partner; solo variations by the male dancer and then the ballerina; and a coda, or conclusion, with both partners dancing together to display their virtuosity._

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**I. entrée**

* * *

Hook rubbed his bloodshot eyes and scowled. He'd only been in Granny's for a couple of minutes, having stopped in for something to go, but the canned Christmas music wafting over the speakers was grating on his nerves so much he had to suppress the urge to gag or flee. Or both. It wasn't just the repetitive synthetic beat, but the fact that the lyrics seemed tailor-made to mock him: _Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away…_

He knew that had to be a coincidence, but this obnoxious little town full of fairyland refugees had been well and truly having its fun at his expense, thanks to not only that formerly gold-skinned bastard, but the perfidious bitch daughter of that equally perfidious bitch Cora. He'd come here with the intent of claiming vengeance for Milah, and instead he'd walked in on a damned tea party between her murderer and Regina—Queen Regina, who was supposed to have been his ally and the Dark One's enemy, the one who'd taught him the parlor trick in the first place, the one who'd had Hook's own heart—his payment for her lessons—locked up safely in her secret stockpile ever since. And what had they done with it? Stuck it in a pretty velvet-lined box and given it to Aurora "for safekeeping"—after they'd put hers back in, of course. "You took such good care of her heart, handing it over to my mother like that," Regina had sneered at him. "Hopefully she'll be as considerate with yours."

And then, adding further insult to injury, Rumpelstiltskin had removed his hook and then slapped his stump with a metal bangle, or manacle, more like, that worked as some kind of magic nullifier, thereby ensuring he couldn't take any _more _hearts. Like the Dark One's himself. "Can't have you getting into any trouble around here," he'd said in an affable yet positively oily tone. "I trust the Sheriff will have her eye on you, but it's best to take precautions, eh?"

Hook had just glared into that smirking face, wanting nothing more than to rip out _all _his vital organs and grind them under the heel of his boot. "I'll shank you in the bloody dead of night, you sparkly bastard."

"I'd love to see you try." He'd just smiled again and stroked his walking stick.

Hook couldn't believe this was happening. "Just what am I supposed to do in this vile cesspool?"

"Live?" Rumpelstiltskin had shrugged. "It's not so terrible here, once you get used to it. You might need a bit of startup capital; I'm afraid gold doubloons aren't valid currency in this world. I'd suggest selling a few of those pretty baubles of yours." He'd reached out and tugged on one of Hook's necklaces, causing him to recoil violently. "Lucky for you, I happen to own a pawn shop."

He'd refused, naturally. He would have rather slept in a pigsty, though there weren't many of those in this town. He'd ended up down at the docks instead, where in the middle of the night he'd broken into someone's sailboat, feasted on some stale crackers and the dregs of a whiskey bottle, and gone to sleep in the cramped hold, thinking, _I'll steal it in the morning._ He dreamed that night of freedom and the open sea, the promise of a world beyond bloody Storybrooke.

When morning came, however, he awoke to find the boat's grizzled owner staring at him, and next to him, Emma Swan, brandishing handcuffs.

At least for the next week he hadn't had to worry about a place to sleep. But the week in jail had been a torturous affair. Emma had been most displeased with him over Aurora, as apparently the whole heart extraction business had been an issue with the town's prior sheriff—a man named Graham that Hook guessed Emma had had some non-platonic history with. All week, she'd failed to respond to any of his attempts at witticism with anything but a wry look, and had basically left him alone except to push the tray of dry bread and decaying fruit through the bars once a day. Finally, he'd caved.

"Do me a favor, Sheriff?"

"Oh, this'll be good," Emma had responded as if talking to someone else in the room.

Sighing, Hook had pulled off every piece of jewelry—save the blasted bangle, which wouldn't come off no matter how hard he pulled—and proffered them to Emma in his outstretched palm. "I can't very well sell these myself, and I have to make bail somehow. You can keep the change."

Emma had returned half an hour later and unlocked the door to his cell, before pushing a ten dollar bill into his hand. "Gold paid more than I thought he would," she said. "But, ah, keep the change yourself. Buy yourself a drink. I'd say you've earned it."

Hook gave her a lingering stink-eye as he headed for the door to the station.

"Oh, and Hook?" Emma called after him. "Merry Christmas."

_Merry Christmas, _he'd thought, without looking back. A ritual that apparently was a very big deal here, as the entire town was bedecked with glittering lights, festive garlands, and signs everywhere tooting one insincere sentiment after another: _Happy Holidays! Season's Greetings! All the Best to You and Yours! _Everything red and green, slapped with fake snow, sprigged with fake holly. All of it fake, all of it meaningless.

He stepped out onto Main Street, the blast of cold winter air hitting him squarely in the face and exposed patch of chest and causing him to pull his longcoat tightly against him. All around him, people were scurrying, bundled up in hats and mittens, arms piled high with brightly wrapped boxes, laughing, chattering, on their way to be with the ones they loved.

A figure in a blue wool coat, face concealed by the enormous beribboned box in her arms, nearly collided with him. "Oh—sorry!" he heard a voice behind it cry, and the box shifted to reveal the face it belonged to. "I—_oh_."

It took him a moment to place her, but he did. Belle. Rumpelstiltskin's little strumpet, the notoriously unhelpful one. _Of course. _Based on the disgust in that single "_oh_," she hadn't had any problem placing him either.

Belle stared coldly back at him for a long moment, then regained her composure, looking as if she were debating what to say to him. She ended up saying nothing at all, however, only letting out a huff of breath that hung in the chill air as she pushed roughly past him and hurried down the sidewalk.

He'd watched her go, trying to quell the tide of anger that crested up inside him, thinking about how she and the gold bastard would probably be having a good laugh at him that night, curled up together in front of a toasty fireplace. Once again, the Dark One had won, and he'd lost. He indulged himself in the sweet fantasy of ripping the girl's heart out in front of Rumpelstiltskin, of crushing it into dust just as he'd done to Milah's, of making him _scream _with the agony of watching his innocent love die. It wasn't _fair; _how did the tittering trickster still get to enjoy the spoils of his miserable plunderings, while he was left with nothing at all but ten bucks to his name and a heart out on loan?

He'd gritted his teeth and shoved his way into Granny's, the bell over the door cheerfully heralding his arrival.

The dark-haired girl named Ruby, clad in a form-fitting Santa outfit with an unseasonably short skirt, pointedly ignored him as she bustled around clearing plates from the tables. "Closing early tonight, everybody!" she reminded the few other patrons lingering in the booths before giving him a brief side-eye, which he interpreted as _Hurry up and get the hell out. _He eyed the menu, but the ironic music playing in the background, coupled with the protracted stares of the people around him, all of whom surely recognized him as the filthy double-crossing pirate who'd invited Cora and chaos into their tiny orderly lives at the cost of a princess's heart, made it impossible for him to choose between a cheeseburger and a chef salad. _A crowded room, friends with tired eyes…I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice… _With the bilious taste in the back of his dry throat, it would probably all just taste of sawdust anyway. Or poison.

He turned and exited the diner as abruptly as he'd entered, defeated once more. No, it wasn't food he wanted right now. Ten dollars could buy him enough rum to warm him for at least the night, and he'd need it if he was going to end up sleeping in the gutter. He scanned the high street for any sign of a liquor store, the snowflakes that had just begun to fall clinging to his eyelashes and obscuring his view.

"Killian?"

The voice came from behind him, soft and sweet and as sharp as a sword prick to his bowels. He turned around to see Aurora, looking as radiant as her namesake, a vision in white with her cream-colored swing coat and a furry muff and hat to match. Flakes were resting prettily on the amber waves of her hair, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. The keeper of his heart, he thought bitterly, whether he liked it or not. And now she was using his proper name to boot, as if they'd been on intimate terms for years.

It stung more than he cared to admit. He hadn't truly been "Killian" to anybody since Milah.

"Your Highness," Hook said stiffly, noting how her eyes coursed up and down over his bedraggled form—he hadn't had a bath since he'd arrived here and was getting fairly ripe, and hadn't changed his clothes in even longer. He waited for her to gloat over his misfortune, to twist the knife counterclockwise and laugh at what fate had doled out to him, but she only smiled, a little hesitantly.

"Where are you going?"

_What do you care? _"Someplace that sells rum," he replied, voice terse. "Then I think I'll go find a nice warm pile of detritus to curl up underneath. Merry Christmas, by the way."

Aurora's smile was rueful. "Killian…"

It was that pleading note in her voice that did him in, the same way Milah used to say it when he had his lips pressed to her throat. _Killian, please. Oh, Killian, yes, please, don't stop._ "No," he snapped, trying to dam up the surge of memories that burst forth at that single utterance of his name. "You don't get to call me that. I don't care if you're squeezing my heart inside your handwarmer as we speak. You're not allowed." He hoped like hell she didn't notice the slight cracking of his voice on the last word.

If she did, she didn't let on. "Fine," Aurora sighed. "Hook…you shouldn't be out here in the cold all night." She at least had the grace, he thought, to not point out that the "Hook" moniker presently no longer applied.

"Thank you for your concern, Your Worshipfulness, but it's quite unwarranted. I've made it through far worse than a few flurries. Besides, my life rests in your hands, not at the whim of the weather." Looking at her was starting to pain him. "Shouldn't you be hurrying along? I can't imagine a princess spending Christmas Eve all by her lonesome."

Aurora's head and smile both tilted to the side a bit, somehow making her look even more infuriatingly like a porcelain doll. "The Charmings did invite me to dinner, but…I had to decline. It's their first Christmas reunited as a family, and, well, I'm only an interloper. It wouldn't be right."

"How charitable of you." Her magnanimity was starting to nauseate him, though that could've been his empty stomach, too. "The warrior girl, then?"

Aurora shook her head, her face only brightening as his continued to darken. "Actually, no. Mulan has a date tonight. Martial arts instructor. He seems nice."

_The poor sot._ "So you felt left out and thought you'd try to find a date of your own, is that it, Princess?" he asked acidly. "A thousand pardons, but I'm afraid I'd be poor company tonight. You see, I'm heartless, disarmed, filled with vindictive rage and I'm about to pour about a liter of rum on top of all that, so—"

"Stop it." Aurora closed the space between them with a short, quick step, one hand sliding out of her muff, pressing warm against the icy stubble on his chin and taking him completely aback. "Come home with me."


	2. adagio

**II. adagio**

* * *

Stunned, he stared into her clear azure eyes, trying not to dwell on the softness of her palm as it cupped his rough cheek. If she truly did have his heart concealed in her other fist, shouldn't he be compelled to do her bidding without question? But no, it was still very much a question, and one that stumped him. His brows knotted together in confusion.

"I…what sort of trick is this?" he demanded, though his voice wavered. Her own words from the cave echoed in his head. _What is this, some sort of pirate's ruse? _Did she plan to invite him up to her room, let him tear the place apart looking for his heart, and then ensnare him in a more fiendish trap? Perhaps one that ended with his heart crushed in a pulper, while she and Regina and the gold bastard all clinked glasses of bubbly in celebration over his corpse?

"No tricks." She shook her head. "_You _deal in tricks, Killian, not me."

He let the use of his name slide. _Fair enough, _he relented, feeling a touch of resentment just the same. That much couldn't be denied. But still… "I don't…I don't _want _your charity."

"Yes, compassion is such a dreadful thing, isn't it?" There was a hint of playfulness in her voice, and in the quirking of her soft pink lips. "Especially on what's supposed to be the most auspicious night of the year. If it makes you feel better, then, I'll release you back into the wild tomorrow. But tonight, you should come with me."

_Confound this woman_, Hook thought, but he'd run out of excuses, there was a blanket of snow already clinging to his chest hair, and she still hadn't moved her hand from his face. Not that he'd bothered to protest that fact. Finally coming to his senses, he seized her wrist and pushed her hand away. "Lead the way then, Your Highness."

"If you don't stop that, I'll call you Killian again. It's _Aurora._" She gave a little toss of her hair as she set off down the high street, and he tailed along behind, feeling not unlike a ragged hound begging for scraps.

"Very well, _Aurora,_" he sneered. "I suppose you're staying in the hotel?"

"Well, actually, Mr. Gold offered me very generous compensation for my tiara and brooch," Aurora replied, wiping a smattering of snowflakes from her cheek with a fingertip. "He paid me enough to be able to rent out a room in Snow's building, at least for the next few months."

"Yes, he's a real humanitarian, that one," Hook said dryly. "And how do you plan on keeping a roof over your head after that?"

"Oh, I have a job already." She reached up to straighten her fur cap. "The dress shop, Merryweather's. She offered to take me on as an apprentice."

"Quite a step down from reigning over a kingdom, isn't it?" He couldn't help himself, he _couldn't_. They just tumbled out, one snide comment after another, and yet the beacon that was Aurora's face wasn't dimming—until the last remark.

"I never reigned," she said quietly, gazing straight ahead at nothing at all. "I forfeited my kingdom when I went under the Sleeping Curse…and by the time Phillip came to wake me, there was no one left to reign over."

He stopped with the cutting rejoinders after that. He vaguely remembered the princess's words, when they'd been arguing at the foot of the beanstalk, about how she had no loved ones left. He hadn't bothered to dwell on the matter much, though; he simply hadn't _cared, _not about anything that didn't culminate in him filleting the Dark One with his rapier (yet another of his belongings now tagged for sale in the pawn shop). The trials and tribulations of a princess with perpetual bad dreams had been a matter of no interest or consequence to him.

But things were different now. That journey had ended, and now it was only the two of them, wandering in silence against an icy wind up Storybrooke's increasingly dead high street, as its citizens retreated to the warmth of their well-lit houses. They might well have been stranded on an island, Hook thought, for all the distance between them and the rest of these people. _The princess and the pirate. What a fine pair of castaways we make._

He followed Aurora up the darkened steps of a rundown-looking brick building. Inside, the hallways were narrow, low-ceilinged and dingy white, the clamor of various holiday celebrations audible from behind each door. Dark wood floorboards creaked loudly underneath their feet. Both the hue of the polished wood and the sound it made reminded him of the deck of the _Jolly Roger_, a thought that gave him an uncomfortable pang. He hadn't thought about his ship in _ages_, but now he could nearly feel it rolling beneath him, the waves breaking on the bow, the salt spray on his face…

_Forget it, it's gone, _he told himself, but it was a listless directive. He'd never belonged anywhere but at sea. He'd certainly never belong in this town, even if he attempted to play at it the way Aurora was doing.

He kept at her heels up several flights of stairs, until she paused on the landing to fumble in her coat pocket for a set of keys. "There's not much here," she said almost apologetically as she unlocked the door. "Snow brought over a few things, to make it look less empty, but it still has a long way to go."

Hook quirked an amused eyebrow at her, not bothering to point out that he was well-accustomed to putting his feet up in a rat-infested ship's cabin, not to mention a jail cell. The interior was a large single room, sparse but inviting enough: whitewashed brick walls, bright paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, a glass vase of hellebores on a butcher's-block table. The bedroom was closed off by only a hanging curtain, and a partition wall with glass panels concealed what he assumed was the privy. The scent of cinnamon and cloves wafted out from the tiny kitchen. "Well," Hook commented as he craned his neck around, "you're really intent on making your home here, aren't you?"

"It's the only home I have now." Aurora didn't look at him as she pulled off her cap and hung it on a peg by the door. "Where else would I go? Back to my empty palace in the desert? No prince, no subjects, nothing but scrub and sand as far as the eye can see." She shrugged out of her coat, but instead of hanging it, flung it toward the chaise, where it landed splayed over the armrest. He thought he saw a flicker of anger in her eyes, but her voice was calm and matter-of-fact. "I'm not a princess anymore. I'm just Aurora." She lifted her chin, her eyes defiant. "And at least here, I have friends."

He found he could do nothing but stare at her now, a tiny wisp of a thing, really, all creamy smooth skin and cascading tawny curls, fairly glowing in the soft lantern light. That proud chin jutting out and those clear blue marble eyes. She wore a short dress of seafoam green sprigged with tiny pink flowers, and silk ivory stockings that he was fairly certain stopped at mid-thigh—he was sure he saw a peep of lace below the hem. She wore no jewelry and no makeup, and she needed neither. She was…well, stunning.

_And you're a pitiful sap who's gone too long without shaking the sheets_, Hook reminded himself. _Don't be forgetting this girl's got your heart in a box somewhere. _If only he could express that sentiment to his now stiffening cock. He surreptitiously tried to adjust his coat enough to conceal it, but he could still feel her watching him.

"You're…welcome to take a bath, if you like," she said after a moment, turning away to busy herself in the kitchen, opening cupboard doors. "There are towels under the washbasin." She gestured toward the false wall.

He welcomed this suggestion, as not only did he sorely need one, it would give him a chance to calm his rebellious body down. After a few frustrating minutes of fiddling with the spigots, he finally managed to fill the tub with steaming water and even added some lilac bath oil, figuring he'd rather smell pretty than mildewed. He sank gratefully into the water, letting it ease his muscles for a moment before he reached down between his legs and started stroking himself to full arousal. _Yes. _He'd gone much too long without taking care of himself, but jail cells weren't the most conducive environments for self-pleasure, and he hadn't been about to get caught beating it by Emma Swan, of all people.

He stroked his cock leisurely at first, hips arching slightly, trying not to displace too much water in the process lest she hear him splashing about and decide to investigate; but soon it proved to not be enough, and he tightened his grip and stroked harder, thrusting through the tunnel of his fingers, his breath coming in short, quiet pants. He closed his eyes and let the back of his head hit the edge of the tub, and all he could see was Aurora, pulling up her dress to show him the lacy tops of her pale silk stockings, her milk-white thighs and the thicket of curls between them. _Oh, hang the gods. _He couldn't silence the low groan that issued from his throat. _Oh, Aurora…_

"Hook?" Her voice carried over the partition and crashed into his fantasy, causing him to halt in mid-stroke. "Will you want to eat soon?"

_Just you, sweetheart. _"_Yes_," he uttered in a strangled voice, taking up the rhythm again more quickly this time, intent on finishing before she could interrupt again. The water was tepid by the time he finally spurted, hissing his relief through his teeth. He dried himself and re-dressed, an exasperatingly slow task with one hand and no hook, thankful that at least his clothes smelled more musky than foul.

By the time he emerged from the washroom, there was a tray of sliced meats, cheeses, and crusty bread on the low table in front of the chaise. "I don't really know how to cook yet," Aurora said sheepishly, offering him a chipped mug of what turned out to be hot mulled wine. "I almost burned down Snow's kitchen last week when she tried to teach me. Henry introduced me to this stuff called Captain Crunch, so I've been eating a lot of that instead."

"It's fine." Hook took another deep swallow of wine. He didn't know if it was due to alcohol or masturbatory stress relief, but he found her prattle almost endearing now, instead of annoying. He sat down and began piling meat onto a slab of bread. Aurora hovered near the wooden crates stacked against the wall, pulling out a large square envelope of some kind from a bigger pile, from which she withdrew a flat black disk. She set about arranging this on some other square object atop the crates. He tried to peer around her shoulder for a better look, but he got his answer when the merry strains of flutes and violins began to float through the air. Aurora turned back around, positively beaming.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

He smiled back in spite of himself. "What is it?"

"It's from a dance called the Nutcracker. It's…it's a fairy tale, sort of. About a girl who's rescued by a wooden prince who becomes real, and he takes her away to his world. Emma says they perform this in the big cities every year at Christmastime." She looked a bit wistful at missing the opportunity, then giggled. "The man who wrote it wrote another symphony based on the Sleeping Beauty, too, but for some reason I don't like that one as much."

Hook looked down into the bottom of his now empty mug, feeling the heat settling into his face. He didn't want to acknowledge that her giggle was starting to do strange things to certain parts of his body again. _It's just the wine, idiot. Never mind her, you should be looking around for that box. _But he couldn't quite maneuver himself off the chaise, especially not when she sat down next to him and daintily crossed her legs, her skirt creeping up her thighs in the process.

They ate and drank in silence for awhile while the music played out a battle scene full of thundering drums and cymbal crashes. After finishing his fifth cup of wine, Hook finally set the mug down and settled back into the corner, his handless arm draped across the back of the chaise and one boot propped up on the table. "Well, Princess—_Aurora,_" he drawled. "You've got me good and drunk and not particularly willing to move, so why don't you go ahead and come clean about whatever little game you're playing here."

She actually had the gall to give him the big innocent eyes over her shoulder. "Game, Captain?"

"Yes, _this_, this—" Hook gestured with his good hand, temporarily stymied by words. "This inviting me home, pouring me full of wine, even getting me into your bathtub. You've no earthly reason to do any of these things, not after all the crimes I've committed against you and your friends. So why don't you just confess whatever it is you've got planned? You still have the advantage over me."

Aurora stared forward for a long time, seemingly lost in the lulling violins, before finally turning back to him. "Why do you assume everybody is playing the same game as you?"

"So I don't lose." He watched her, but her face did not change. "It's much safer that way. I do hate being caught off-guard."

Aurora rose from the chaise, smoothing down her skirt. "Fine. I'll show you. Stay put." She disappeared behind the curtain concealing her bed. A few minutes later, she returned carrying something. "You're right, of course, that I had an ulterior motive in bringing you here," she replied with a wry smile. "I wanted to give you a gift." She extended it to him.

Hook's eyebrows started to knit together as he accepted the black lacquer box, his eyes darting from it back to her. Gingerly, he lifted the lid and peered inside.

Aurora sat back down, waiting for his shaking to subside.

"Why," he asked in a low voice with a barely perceptible tremor, "are you giving this back?"

"It's not mine." She sighed. "I have no claim to it. I didn't earn it and I don't want it."

"Really." He couldn't bring himself to believe that. "And what does the Queen have to say about this?"

"She doesn't know, of course. Naturally, she assumes I want revenge on you for taking mine, and I didn't exactly try to dissuade that opinion. Regina thinks like you, Hook; I can see why you were such a keen learner of hers."

Hook let out a sarcastic huff, which Aurora ignored.

"I'm in Regina's good book for the moment, since I have a connection to Henry. You, however, are on her…how did Emma put it?" Aurora tapped a finger against her chin in thought. "Oh, yes, 'shit list.' You brought Cora through. The one person Regina hates more than anyone, including Rumpelstiltskin."

"Cora's been contained," Hook said through gritted teeth.

"Contained, not defeated," Aurora countered, surprising him with the conviction in her voice. It was the voice of a ruler, he thought. "She's been contained before. The book won't hold her forever; she'll either find a way out, or someone will help her. They're afraid that'll be you. You do have a less-than-stellar reputation—albeit one befitting a pirate. And yet, they'd rather not kill you. They'd rather watch you suffer."

"Yes, I've noticed that," Hook said dully, staring at the ceiling.

"But they still need to keep you in check. Gold, Regina…they don't want you to have your heart back. As long as it's in this box, you can be controlled. You won't hurt anybody."

"I don't need to hurt anyone else," Hook said, the anger welling up inside him again. "Just _him_. I have a right to that."

Aurora rested her chin on one hand. "You know," she said, her voice distant, "when I first met Snow, I pulled a dagger on her, did you know that?" Her tone was so light and pleasant, she might well have been discussing baking cookies, or picking flowers. "I was ready to spill her blood then and there. Because when she came through, she brought the wraith with her, the wraith that took Phillip. I thought I had a right to _my_ vengeance. Except I called it justice." She heaved a deep sigh. "It...killing Snow wasn't going to bring back Phillip. It wasn't going to do anything but spill more blood. Blood that would've been on _my _hands. Had I done it, Emma would have been in her rights to claim her own vengeance...and then Mulan would've killed her in turn. And then what? Who wins then? What sort of victory is that, to be the last one standing?"

Hook saw her point, but he also saw the one that she was missing. "That bastard's hurt far more people than just me. He's hurt you, too. He's the one who summoned that wraith in the first place, did you know _that?_"

Her eyes were downcast. "Yes," she said in an unbearably soft voice.

"So we're in agreement, then. He has it coming."

"But why must you be the one to give it?"

"He took _the only person I loved_." Hook managed to stand up without falling over; his adrenaline was overriding his blood alcohol, and his voice was rising with each syllable. "You don't understand. I stood there, _powerless_, and I watched her _die. _I watched the light go out of her eyes. I buried her at sea."

"I don't _understand?_" Aurora's voice was shrill and sarcastic now. "I stood there and watched as my prince had his soul sucked out. I laid him on the same bier where I'd been laying for twenty-eight years. Twenty-eight years in the darkness, running from my own worst fears, praying but never really believing he'd find me. But he did. And all I had was one day with him. _One!_" There were tears wobbling in her eyes. "And in that day, I had to face the fact that just maybe, he'd fallen for another woman while I was sleeping." Streaming down her cheeks, now. "You _can't_ tell me that I don't understand."

"Your prince gallantly gave his life to protect you," Hook muttered, doing his best to ignore her tears. "Milah was murdered. By a scaly, sniveling coward who wouldn't even fight for her. And he now struts about like king of the town while all the little people grovel at his feet." He folded his arms across his chest. "He deserves to _die, _Aurora."

Aurora wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. "Killing him won't bring her back," she whispered.

"What is it you want me to _do?_" Hook snapped, perilously close to losing it. "_Forgive_ him? You want me to forgive him for ripping her heart out and crushing it like a clod of dirt?"

Aurora looked up at him, and he knew in that instant what she would say next.

"Well…I managed to forgive you."

He fell back onto the chaise, defeated, all adrenaline drained away. "Then you're a sweet, trusting fool," he murmured.

"A fool to trust you, yes. Not a fool to forgive." Aurora picked up the box from where he'd left it sitting between them, and proffered it again. "Killian…you'll hurt far more people without this than with it. You already _have. _You can't listen to something that isn't there. Take it. Maybe it can't be put back right now, but…you should still have it."

He flipped the lid open again, gazed at the glassy, glowing vessel within, listened to it throb. "Then how will you control me?" he demanded, looking back to her. "How can you possibly stop me from going on a bloody murderous rampage? Right this minute? What's to stop me from going down to Rumpelstiltskin's right now and stringing him up by his entrails? You going to take me down with a kitchen knife, princess? Tackle me? What?"

She kissed him.

He didn't even realize what was happening, until the box started to slide out of his one-handed grip, and back onto the chaise. His hand moved up to her face, thumb stroking her cheek as their lips meshed together. She cupped his jaw in her fingers before pulling away.

"No," she said. "But I can be your conscience, if you let me."

He'd couldn't remember the last time he felt this dazed. He watched, as if dreaming, as Aurora rose from the chaise, gathered the mugs onto the tray and carried them into the kitchen. He stared blearily at the wall of crates before him, listening to the music swell to a near-deafening crescendo. It was angry and weeping and beautiful all at once.

There was a faint ceramic tinkling in the sink. He got to his feet and followed the sound, stopping right behind where Aurora stood, rinsing out the mugs.

"Did you want m—" was all she got out before he pulled her head back toward him and kissed her full on the mouth, his tongue demanding entrance. She whimpered sweetly and let him in. He wrapped his abbreviated arm around her waist and pressed his hips against her pert little bottom, beginning to rock back and forth, rubbing his straining bulge against the cleft of her ass, all the while sucking on her tongue. She broke away, gasping for air.

"Ohhh, Killian_…"_ she whined.

His cock grew even stiffer at that litany. "Oh, say it again," he groaned, pressing his lips to the back of her neck, to the side, to just beneath her jaw. His hand traveled up to gently squeeze her breast. "_Say it."_

"_Killian,_" she sighed, and he'd never heard anything so wonderful in all his life.

He undid each of the buttons on the back of her dress, trying not to think how his hook would have made shorter work of it, and tugged it off, revealing silky cream-colored underthings with tiny ribbon roses, and of course, those glorious stockings. He slid his finger between lace and skin, pulled, then let it snap back. "Leave those on for now," he murmured, kissing the tops of her breasts before pulling down the odd half-corset that concealed them. He sucked one pebbly pink nipple into his mouth, biting gently and drawing out Aurora's cries in the process. He worried it with his teeth until it was puffy and red and she was yelping, begging him to stop, her hands wrenching through his hair. Only then did he turn to the other nipple and give it an equal lavishing of attention.

Aurora was gripping the counter and writhing as he traced a wet path with his tongue down her belly and past her navel, all the way down to the top of her underclothes, which he dispensed with in short order. His fingers probed gently into the soft tuft of hair, seeking out that little pink bud. Aurora wailed loudly. _Ah, there she is_. He pressed it with his fingertips, swirled and flicked the tip of his tongue over it, sucked it with just the barest nip of teeth. Aurora's thighs quivered like jelly as he pushed them apart, just enough to draw his tongue through her folds. She began to buck her hips against his mouth as he delved deeper into her sweet heat, but he held her back and slipped his fingers inside her instead, crooking them in a beckoning gesture as he nibbled ever so lightly on her clit. Aurora let out a low keening sound.

"Killian…" she moaned. "Oh, Killian, _please_, I _need_ you."

He needed her more, he was certain. The pressure against his cock was intolerable. He fumbled with his lacings, finally allowing himself a shred of relief as his heavy shaft swung free. Aurora blinked down at him through hazy eyes.

"Oh, this won't do at all," he panted against her skin, pausing to give her a quick love-bite on the inner thigh.

"No?" She sounded so disappointed. He managed to hold in his chuckle.

"No, love, we need to take this to your bed. This is no place to dance." He straightened up and scooped her into his arms, her body still trembling as he pushed past the curtain.

* * *

**A/N: **yes, I'm an evil tease. To be concluded!

Also, I realized while writing (and listening to it) that the Nutcracker story is actually really a Wooden Swan analogy, but maybe someone else can write that fic?


	3. coda

**III. coda**

* * *

He laid her on the bed with perhaps less care than he intended, too distracted by the unbearable throbbing of his cock to be especially gentle, but she only giggled as she tumbled onto the patchwork quilt. She lay back, idly caressing the valley between her breasts before her fingers trailed down to the junction of her thighs.

"That's a girl," Killian murmured approvingly, unable to take his eyes off her as he impatiently fumbled with the buckles of his doublet, once more cursing his limited dexterity. "Put on a show for me." He licked his lips as she hesitantly touched herself, fingers wandering between her slick pink folds. It took every ounce of self-control not to seize his own cock and start pumping when she let out a tiny squeal of surprised pleasure, instead focusing on shucking off his trousers and boots as fast as possible. _Oh, to hell with clothes. I'm never putting on bloody clothes again. _

Naked at last, he pulled her to the edge of the bed, crouching on the floor as he arranged her legs over his shoulders and nuzzled into her luscious cunt once more, lapping at her folds, unable to get enough of that tangy salt on his tongue. She was plenty wet already, he thought, but a little more couldn't possibly hurt. Her hips arched again as his coarse beard prickled her tender inner thigh, and she giggled, high and sweet.

"Killian, that _tickles_."

He paused, panting hot breath over her slippery cleft, then slowly ambled to his feet and gripped his cock in hand, pre-cum already dribbling from the tip. She gasped as he rubbed the head up and down her glistening slit, pressing it against her swollen, pulsing bud.

"And that?" he rasped. "How does that feel?"

"Oh…it…" Aurora's cheeks were so red, her mouth slack with desire as a stream of incoherent whimpers tumbled out. "K-Killian…it's too big…"

"Mm-mm, it's just right. You'll see." He clambered over her then, planting a knee on either side of her shoulders as he guided the tip of his cock to rub over those moist, bitten lips. "Want to get me wet?"

Aurora's eyes were wider and bluer than ever as she tentatively took hold of his shaft, experimentally stroking the length of it, tracing the veins, tugging the sheath of soft skin so it covered the head. _She's new to this,_ he thought with a dash of amusement, thought it wasn't exactly a shock. He hadn't had a princess before, but it was considered unbecoming of a proper noble maiden to give up her virtue before she was wed. Even then, he was surprised that she and Phillip apparently hadn't gone for a four-legged frolic on their one-day reunion, given how long she'd been waiting for him.

If anything, it only made him want her more. He tried to ignore the dull ache settling into his balls as Aurora slowly sucked the tip between her lips, her tongue flickering ever so gently over his slit. She giggled again, possibly at his expression, and the vibration of it nearly pushed him over the edge. His nostrils flared as he sucked in breath through his clenched teeth. She let him slip out of her mouth, then began to soothe the whole length of him with her tongue, licking from base to tip.

Killian was only able to manage a couple of minutes of that before it became too much. "All right, love," he managed hoarsely, "that's enough." She smiled winningly at him as he scrambled back to the end of the bed, still kneeling, and hooked her knees over his thighs, the sensuous feel of her stockings against his skin driving him to utter distraction. He guided the tip of his cock back into place, easing the head into her soft, wet heat. "Ready?"

Aurora could only pant breathlessly and nod, her large eyes both fearful and glazed with lust. He braced himself and pushed slowly in, eyes crossing at the sensation of those tight, _tight _walls closing in around him, the slick, intense heat making him dizzy. "_Aaahhhhh,"_ Aurora cried out as he pushed through her resistance, her arms flailing and hands grasping, fingernails finally anchoring themselves somewhere behind his knees. He was sure she was drawing blood, and he didn't care. He kept pushing until he was fully hilted inside her, then paused, head swimming, to collect himself, staring down into Aurora's eyes. "Oh—_ohh_—Killian," was all she could utter. He drew the pad of his thumb down over her lower lip, then slowly eased out and slammed back in with all the force he could muster.

Aurora's wail was so loud it cleaved the air in two. Killian found himself hoping like hell no well-meaning neighbors (the Charmings in particular) decided to check up on her, lest they barge in looking for a prowler attacking the princess and instead find a heartless pirate balls-deep inside her. The thought only spurred him on. He braced his good hand on the side of her head and his phantom one behind her back, fucking her as hard as he possibly could, while he pried her fingers off his thighs and moved them up to his clenching ass. The room was filled with a symphony of sorts, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, her moans, his grunts, and the tremulous notes of a waltz still drifting from the sitting room.

Aurora let out a noise like a choking sob, and Killian lowered his mouth to her ear, easing his speed as he nipped the lobe. "What's wrong, love? No good?"

"No—no—oh, it's _so _good—but oh, Killian," she babbled breathlessly, clutching at his buttocks. "I need…I need…"

"I know what you need," he growled, pulling reluctantly all the way out. Aurora whimpered a protest, but stopped as he rolled her over atop him, drawing her up into a kneeling position. She sank her fingers into the thick carpet of dark hair on his chest, stroking, fondling his nipples. He smiled at her obvious wonderment as he rubbed his cock head over her entrance again.

"Can you lift your hips for me? Ease up. There's a good girl." Aurora shuddered as she pushed her hips down onto his, until he was sheathed inside her once more, her swollen lips brushing against the thick dark hair at his groin, then at his gentle urging began to swivel in slow circles. He pressed a kiss to her brow as her head drooped toward his. "See? You know how to dance," he murmured, fingers dipping down to her clit again, flicking and teasing and drawing out another whine.

They fell into an easy rhythm, not quite as frenetic as their initial fucking, but just as needy. She stretched out over him, gripping the flimsy headboard as she bounced on his cock, crying out every time their hips slammed together. He nipped at her breasts as he rubbed her tender clit, eager to bring her to the breaking point first. Her cries grew more desperate and ragged with each stroke, her face flushed and her lovely curls gone stringy. He stroked harder, and at last he felt her body tense up and those sweet walls clamp down on him tight again—just the extra push to the edge that he himself needed. She spasmed, her whole body quaking as she slumped over him, steadying herself on his chest.

He rolled her onto her back again and pulled out, stroking his cock rapidly and coming over her belly in quick, hot spurts. Aurora watched dazedly, a faint smile on her lips as he dragged his fingertips through the spunk, doodling little patterns on her skin. "You didn't…I thought you'd come inside me," she mumbled.

"Oh, well, much as I wanted to, I don't think we're quite ready for Killian Junior just yet, do you?"

Aurora's cheeks reddened even more, her smile growing slowly. "I suppose not. Do you mean to tell me, Captain, that you've no children anywhere? I assumed a man with your reputation would have a child in every port."

"None that I know of, my dear, although I've been quite careful to that end, to be sure." He reached for a tissue on the nightstand and wiped the mess off her belly.

"You've never wanted one?"

Killian looked down into those crystal blue eyes, smoothing a lock of hair back from her face. The question formed an odd squiggle in the pit of his stomach, because he could hear just as well what she _wasn't _asking. And thinking about that made him uneasy. _God's sake, it's far too soon to be having this conversation_. "The sea's no place to raise a child, love," he said quietly, leaving it at that.

Aurora lowered her eyelids, lashes starting to flutter shut. Killian lay down beside her, rolling onto his side so that he could drape an arm across her waist. "Did I do all right?" she murmured.

"Oh, beautifully." He nuzzled behind her ear.

"Good." She managed another sleepy smile. "Phillip and I tried once, you know. It was so hard to get a moment alone; my parents always had guards chaperoning us. We sneaked into the undercroft once, but it was so uncomfortable lying on a stone floor, and we were so young that it was all just awkward fumbling, anyway." She blushed at the memory.

Killian thought again of Milah, of all the nights she'd cried his name and clawed his back in his bed in the captain's quarters, but he didn't get quite the same hollow ache this time. His gaze drifted over Aurora's sleepy face. _No. You can't just forget her and your promise now, just because you're lying in post-coital bliss with a princess. _

But she wasn't simply a princess; she was his conscience now, or so she'd pledged to be. The right to his wrong, the key to his heart.

A soft snore escaped Aurora's lips. Carefully, he disengaged himself from her and padded back into the sitting room, where the music had stopped, although the disk continued to spin soundlessly. He lifted the lacquer box and peered inside once more, the glowing heart casting ruby shadows on his face.

Carrying it back into the bedroom, he crossed over to the weathered chest-of-drawers, pulling one out, and tucked the box in safely amongst a nest of frilly underthings, slips and stockings.

Then he rejoined Aurora on the bed, buried his face in her silken fall of hair, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He was alone in the bed when he awoke the next morning, but he could hear the sounds of Aurora puttering around the kitchen, making all sorts of tinkling and clinking noises. Oddly comforting sounds, ones he wasn't accustomed to hearing, but that he imagined he could definitely get used to, if he had to. He pushed back the covers and crossed to the window. The world outside was blanketed in white, the panes thick with frost. _I could've been sleeping out in that mess._

He heard Aurora giggle at something, and it woke a smile on his own face. _I wonder how she'd react if I snuck up behind her like this? _The smile grew devilish. _Maybe she'd be willing to put off the tea and come back to bed for a bit. _

Killian pushed back the curtain and stepped out into the main room. Aurora was at the sink, filling the teakettle. Snow was sitting at the table, a large wrapped box at her feet.

Both women turned to stare at him. Snow's mouth fell open as her eyes made a very obvious trek downward, halting at the apex of his thighs.

He recovered from the shock first, and decided to play it straight. "Morning, Snow. Merry Christmas."

Snow just nodded, eyes still fixed on his crotch until it finally occurred to her to avert them. "Oh, yes, merry Christmas to you too…Killian." She rose mechanically from the stool, picking up a pile of what appeared to be folded clothes off the counter, and thrust them into his hands, strategically blocking his cock from view. "Uh…I brought over a few of David's things, just until you get settled. You're about the same size." She cleared her throat. "For the most part."

He arched an eyebrow at Aurora, who'd turned pink and was laughing behind her hand. He supposed all of Storybrooke was going to be aware of this within the hour. "You _told _her?" he demanded.

"Well, not everything," Aurora replied, cheeks dimpling and eyes sparkling as she turned nonchalantly to the stove.

"You'll find that it's very hard to keep secrets in this town for long," Snow added, looking herself as though she were trying not to burst out laughing.

"Mm, good to know," Killian muttered. "If you'll excuse me, Snow…" and with all the dignity he could muster, took his bundle of clothing and strode toward the washroom. He was well aware that his bare ass was on full display as he walked across the apartment, but that was fine. She could look all she liked. He knew he had a nice ass.

Right before he turned on the water tap, he could just barely hear her whisper loudly to Aurora.

"How are you even _walking _after that?"

* * *

~end~

* * *

Thanks for reading :)


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